


Moment

by cranberrysmoke



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, WWE Extreme Rules, WWE Royal Rumble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranberrysmoke/pseuds/cranberrysmoke
Summary: A comparison in time between two hugs in Edge and Christian's career.
Relationships: Christian Cage & Edge, Christian Cage/Edge
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	Moment

Extreme Rules 2011:

-Christian-

It was a predictable, almost trite storyline when you look back on it. Built on the pair of us, one of us torn apart from the ring, the other still bound by dreams that had not been fulfilled. Trite, absolutely, like Cole saying that “hell froze over” to cut to promo after the match. But it didn’t feel that way... in the moment. In the moment, after the choreographed fall, and Brodus Clay (of all men) and the collapse of Del Rio... it didn’t feel trite. I rose with the championship in my hands, and I felt so tired, as if all the years of work had compounded onto me in a minute, in a second. I could feel your eyes on me, and they burned, like they always did. Like they always did when you had a plan that paid off. 

I never had a plan, even when I joined you in this business, other than to follow you into the call of the ring.

My arms feel heavy, and then my legs feel heavy, and then I collapse to the floor from the ladder. I can hear the announcers; I can hear the table shouting in the distance as if they are in another room entirely and not in a stadium packed. Something about how I never felt I deserved to touch the belt. I never did. And I shake my head "no” because I never felt like I deserved to touch you, either. Seven times, you won this, and I know that this belt is yours. And as you extend your arms to me... I could hear it, what you were saying to me with your actions. Your body so open, so happy. That you belonged to me.

I collapse into you, and you crush into me. Your hand crushing into my shoulder, into my neck. I can’t see your expression, but I can feel it, as your eyes squint. I tap twice, and you tap twice. It is too much, the way your arm throbs through my entire body. I feel elation, and I want to stay there, happy. But in front of too many people, I forget that must celebrate as well. I am electrified, so much so that I lose my grip on the title, but not on you. Not for more than a second at least to get my surroundings. You are saying "you did it!" like you are an innocent spectator and not the entire reason for everything.

Your face is so serious, though. Maybe you are more aware of the cameras than I am. Maybe so. I am title drunk, drunk on my win, and all I can see is your glow. I rush into your chest so I can bury my eyes from this sensation.

I don’t get to feel this sort of happiness in my career. Embarrassment, maybe a little goofiness, maybe villainous, but never happy, never so happy. Never with so many people cheering for me. Never in the direct presence of your smile.

I feel your smile as your lips reach my cheek. You are saying something, anything. I am desperately trying not to cry, and I speak as you surround me again. 

“I love you, man.”

Your face is still TV serious, almost unreadable if it was not you. It’s a hair gentler than your superstar persona, though. You shake my neck almost violently; you force it out of me again. "You what?" I have the passing thought that maybe you are ribbing me, or maybe I am realizing that I don’t say it often enough. So, blindly, I say it again. 

"You love me?"…. so gentle…

Who ELSE? Who else was there? Who else could it have been? 

You hold me again, cradle me. Your face was so surprised, but concrete, like you knew that there was no other answer I could give to you. You raise my arms before we lose it. I know I am dazed and drunk, but watching it back, you are too. You are saying something brave when (we think) we have our backs turned to the cameras, and then they cut to B roll and usher you out of the ring before we set up our entire lives in there, never to leave the corner for the next segment.

Royal Rumble (2021)

-Edge-

None of this is happening. 

I am convinced.

I am still stunned by this whole process. Stunned in the aftershock of the last time I returned. When the fans wanted me to be there, when the young boys in the back still knew my name. When the management still saw potential in me, when my doctors and my wife begrudgingly let me back into that ring. I still felt stunned that all of that happened the first time.

I can barely fathom that they let me do this again. A second time. The potential to win is humming, humming.

But I feel as if I don't care about winning. In the moment, I care about the fight.

I am burnt out on the ground, trying to catch up to the guys. Broken down by Matt Riddle (of all men). My arms and my legs feel heavy, and I can barely move.... 

24…

I must be hallucinating. You are walking down the ramp like a vision, like a dream. The dream was to get back in the ring, but getting back into the ring with you… it was like pigs were flying. It was like hell was freezing over.

I cannot remember in between. I just remember standing there, witnessing you. Maybe it was just in my mind, but you looked so young. Or maybe in my mind we never aged. I cannot help but smile, and you smile back, crookedly. So brave and so very, very you.

We crush into each other once more, and it is so familiar the way your head fits into my neck, and the way your hands feel on my waist. I tap twice, and you tap twice. We sway, enchanted. I feel lost and drunk and happy. There is no time, no time to say anything to each other. We share a look for maybe the briefest of seconds.

I cannot look at your face anymore, I must look at the opponent before I think too much about this feeling. Before I start to think about how you had never changed, not a second in our lives together. How your hands still felt the same. How you still looked at me as if I were the sun, as if you were not the reason for everything. How we still belonged to each other.

We break apart and I know that we never did lose that flow in the ring. I always said that my first love was wrestling, but there my thoughts always toss and turn. Where did my love for wrestling start and my love for you end? 

In the back, we touch again briefly. This time you stay restrained, almost angrily glaring at the photographer. I can’t help the smile that grows on my face when we hug. You still look so proud of me…  
I am grateful that this is not happening at the end, but in the middle. In the middle of what felt like forever.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fan fiction I've ever written and it's pretty bad but *slams files onto table* when I tell you I was LIP READING what they were saying to each other at the end of this PPV in 2011, I swear to god. also... the one month I don't pay for the network they have the hug of a century and I gotta try and describe it through gif format. *dead* why do they hug like this!!? also E and C together forever, they love each other and we love to see it.


End file.
